I returned to the Gala room a hollow vessel.
Crystal chandeliers dripped light on wolves in tailored suits and gowns worth more than my entire failed marriage.
I stood near the champagne tower, nursing my third glass, trying to numb the memory of my ex-husband's lips on another woman's mouth.
Sterile.
Unwanted.
Broken.
The words had been hissed at me for years, but tonight, they coiled around my ribs like barbed wire…slowly bleeding me to death.
It was over.
It was really…really over. There was no false hope to cling to. No memories to cherish, everything had been taken away today by the pool side.
A familiar scent came closer to, vanilla and spite, it was Diara. And close to her was Michael. He was furious.
"Couldn't you pretend to be my family for one second? I'm hurting, Daddy, can't you see that?"
When he stared at me coldly, I smiled it off and picked up another glass of champagne.
